Chapter Five
CJ, The Colony, Base 3, Transport Room
“What do you mean, exactly? You can’t have sex at all? You can’t get it up?” I asked. This guy didn’t look like he had any kind of problems, in any department, especially when it came to sex. And one look at that particular area of his body and—trouble. He was big. Everywhere.
One look at him and my panties would have been ruined—if I were wearing any. He was gorgeous. Huge. Like giant huge. I’d never met anyone so big before. I wasn’t small. Not at all and he was a good foot taller than me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had to tilt my head up to look at someone. Maybe just before I turned fourteen and hit that one big growth spurt. But that had been over ten years ago.
“Can’t get it up?” he asked.
“The big, bad beastly cock. That’s what you’re talking about? It doesn’t work?”
Anger flared in his eyes, but I wasn’t scared of him despite the ridiculous number of weapons strapped to his body, or the odd platinum and gray manacles hanging from his waist. The silver hue stirred a memory, but I didn’t have time to return to dreamland right now. I had no idea why I wasn’t intimidated in the least. If he were to walk down the streets in New York, people would clear the sidewalk for him.
The left side of his neck and lower jaw looked oddly silver, but honestly, it just looked like he’d smeared Halloween makeup on his skin. I didn’t know what else might be odd about him, but he was beautiful. Big. And his eyes were a deep, haunted green. So much pain behind them it felt like a gut punch every time he met my gaze. I didn’t let him see that I knew, of course. But just arguing with him, I knew I’d never forget him. If I let him walk away now, he’d haunt me. Forever.
So why should I let him give me away? He’d said he was my mate, the one I’d been matched to. Therefore, he wouldn’t hurt me. Sure, I could believe the computers, but just looking at him, I knew. It was in his eyes, in the way he looked at me. There was something there, something hurting and lonely and broken. Something I desperately wanted to fix. It was instinct. Pure and simple. He was mine. That’s what I knew. Deep down. Beyond words or logic or reason. I realized this might be the single most important fight of my life. No way was I walking away.
He was mad, but not at me. He was mad at himself, at his body, which seemed to have recently betrayed him.
“I can get it up, as you call it, but I have no interest in claiming a mate.”
“No interest?” I felt my brows go up. He claimed he wasn’t interested, but his gaze dropped to my breasts and lingered. I stood straighter, shoving the triple D cups up on display. I ran my hand down my side, to my waist to see if he tracked the movement. He totally did. Not interested? Liar, liar, pants on fire. “You might have low T.”
His dark brows went up, and I studied him. From the dark hair that was slightly shaggy—and very silky looking—to his broad shoulders, the form-fitting black uniform did nothing to hide his brawny physique. I glanced lower, to the front of his pants and realized perhaps that wasn’t the case. I made sure to hold my gaze there, on the piece of anatomy currently under discussion, and remembered the dream. The huge cock. The grumbling voice of the beast. I made sure he noticed my attention. “Yeah, no. I think you’ve got plenty of testosterone.”
“Female. You are on dangerous ground.”
“Apparently not.” I pointed at him, circled my finger. “Your beast, in there somewhere, has no interest in me?”
He pursed his lips, glanced over my shoulder, not wanting to meet my eyes. “My beast has been subdued. Perhaps even killed.”
My mouth fell open. “I don’t understand. Did you have something amputated? Or do you have something dead and rotting inside you? Do you need surgery?”
He stepped closer, his body heat radiating like a warm blanket. He grabbed my hand, placed it flat against his chest. His very hard, very warm chest. I could feel the beat of his heart, the inhalations of his breathing.
“No. He is not dead.”
I had a feeling he was saying that more for himself than for me. “Then what?”
“The doctors do not know. They have not identified what has happened to me. This is a first; the first time an Atlan has ever had his beast stolen from him. The Hive did something to me, down in those caves. They weakened him so that he can’t come to the surface. He is caged. He cannot escape.”
“So…you want your beast to come out? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It can be, if I were to go into a rage or mating fever, but for now, I’d do anything to rage. To be able to fight again. I am worthless here. A forgotten relic of the war. I can’t fight like this. I can’t defend my people. The war rages on, and those of us contaminated by the Hive are banished and forgotten, like broken things tossed in the garbage.”
He didn’t want a mate, he wanted to go back to war. To fighting and killing. “So you need the beast to come out so you can fight?”
He nodded, a dark curl falling over his strong forehead. “I cannot hunt. I cannot protect a mate or my security team. I am weak.”
“How does it normally happen?” I wondered. “When does your beast come out?”
“Several things trigger an Atlan to become his beast. The fever. Anger, especially during battle. Anger at anyone who is harming someone else, specifically my mate. Any threat to the people under my protection, and the beast rises to fight.”
“You sound like the Hulk now,” I mused, but he ignored my outburst and continued staring at me. “You said something about a fever?”
“Mating fever can summon the beast as well.”
“Fever? Taking a mate makes you sick?” That didn’t sound promising. No wonder he wanted to give me away.